


Burns

by Hormonal_Trashbag



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Pining, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo Fanfiction Anthology, Snow White retelling, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 15:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7980859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hormonal_Trashbag/pseuds/Hormonal_Trashbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren had always burnt like a sun. His rage at the many betrayals dealt by his family fueled his actions, kept him moving forward. Often times, he was not sure what he was moving towards. The Supreme Leader was wise; he would guide him.</p><p>This was the truth that had lead Ren to where he was.</p><p>On fire, in the snow, staring up at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel ridiculously late in posting this. I have it finished however, and will post another chapter this evening, as well as the last chapter tomorrow. I've been in a bit of a pickle in RL, but I'm so glad I was able to participate in the anthology.

Kylo Ren had always burned like a sun. His rage at his family’s many betrayals fueled his actions, kept him moving forward. Often times, he was not sure what he was moving towards. The Supreme Leader was wise; he would guide him.

This was the truth that had lead Ren to where he was.

On fire, in the snow, staring up at _her_.

The scavenger girl who dreamed of an ocean.

She was silent, chest heaving, teeth bared like the untrained animal she was. Yet all her righteous fury was dim compared to the anger he felt, a mere reflection of what she had pilfered from the frayed edges of his mind. If he was a star, then she was a moon, gleaning what she could from him and casting a silvery light, cold and distant while he continued to burn.

Struggle as he may to stay upward, his shoulder had been cleanly sliced through and refused to hold his weight. Somehow, gazing at her seething face, Ren could not find the hatred he needed to keep moving.

He felt more like a white dwarf, close to his expiration. Still, he burned, his face cleaved in two disproportionate parts, his right arm unmoving, his hip still bleeding from the bowcaster shot. She wanted to kill him--he could feel his own darkness curl around her in opaque plumes--but she hesitated.

He would rather she didn’t. If he was going to die either way, which he suspected he would, Ren would prefer to be ended quickly at her hand, her as a witness.

She looked poised then, resolved. He felt a chill when she turned to leave.

 _No, please_ \--he wanted to beg, but his voice remained jammed in his throat, his mouth working without sound. She paused, as if she had heard his unvoiced plea, but she did not look back, her shoulders tense as she sheathed her saber. It may have been a family heirloom, but the Skywalker lightsaber had chosen its owner, and it was not Ren.

Even that knowledge, that his grandfather’s lightsaber had rejected him, was not enough to inspire hatred in Ren, not towards her.

If she would not kill him, then he would die alone.

She ran. Ren dropped his head in the snow.

Overhead, tree branches stretched out towards the sky like bony fingers, clawing for the last light of a dying star. He could not feel their desperation, only resignation as the cold seeped into his thick robes, his hair clinging to his damp forehead. It was over, and Ren almost felt thankful.

He closed his eyes as tears seared, his throat bobbing around a sob that threatened to break through his clenched teeth.

Her image clung to the back of his eyelids, forever standing above him and well out of reach--her rightful place, it seemed. Her thin scavenger’s garments flitted about her in the frigid wind, but her back was straight, her stern expression unaffected by physical circumstances, and she was bathed in moonlight--or was it the light of her saber?

It was over, it was all over. His left hand made a fist in the snow, the flakes crunching in the squeeze of his leather palm.

Ren lost consciousness, but not before seeing her in the distance, looking back at him.

 

* * *

 

 

His eyes opened to a blinding white of a Command Shuttle infirmary. He called it an infirmary, but it was little more than a durasteel slab that pulled out from the ship’s hull and a few basic supplies. With a grunt, he pressed his chin to his chest to glare at the stormtrooper who was treating the bowcaster wound with bacta gel.

There was definite internal damage, but he knew proper treatment was well beyond the capabilities of the measly stormtrooper and the supplies available onboard.

The stormtrooper moved to apply bacta to his face next, but Ren hissed, attempting to stop the trooper with his right hand. It still refused to budge, but instead of facing the looming fact that _she_ had taken his arm too, his left hand lurched upward to snatch the trooper’s wrist.

“Don’t bother with the superficial injuries,” he spat, mouth twisting into a scathing snarl.

Another voice replied. “Did you finally get enough beauty sleep, Ren? You certainly look like you need it.”

Ren looked beyond the stormtrooper to the origin of the voice. General Hux was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, boots crossed at the ankles, greatcoat hanging from his shoulders and a cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit. His sarcasm only hinted at the outrage Hux felt.

“General,” Ren intoned, releasing the stormtrooper.

It was only then that Hux retrieved a lighter from his breast pocket. Ren watched with glassy eyes as he took a long drag, then exhaled. Hux pushed off the wall and crept closer with feline agility, a sneer on his face. He dismissed the trooper with a wave of his hand.

“Excellent job, Ren,” he congratulated, clapping his damaged shoulder roughly. “You managed to not only lose the map to Skywalker, but you also allowed Starkiller’s oscillator to be destroyed by a ragtag team of Resistance fighters.”

Hux pulled another breath from his cigarette, leaning forward to blow ash in Ren’s face.

“The Supreme Leader must be so proud to have an apprentice as talented as you.”

Ren hid his disgust, replying only with silence. General Hux had no authority over him, and however much the man despised Ren, he could not get rid of him without having to answer to Supreme Leader Snoke. As much as Hux wanted to shove him out the airlock, his hands were tied.

Though he was unsatisfied that he had been unable to goad a response out of Ren, Hux placed a hand over his shoulder in mock concern, before resting his weight on the injury.

“I can’t wait to see what you do next,” he smiled cruelly.

Ren met his gaze with narrowed eyes. Hux was unbothered by him, and he left with a swift pivot of his boots, but not before extinguishing his cigarette on the durasteel slab, centimeters from his unmovable fingers.

 

* * *

 

 

The Supreme Leader summoned Ren as the shuttle made its descent. He was forced to trudge past the team of medics, his right arm limp at his side as his left hand shooed them away. He had no doubt this was another taunt orchestrated by Hux, but he schooled his expression, proudly refusing a crutch as he stumbled down the hall.

The strain of walking through the base reopened his side, and warmth slid down his leg. By the time he stood before Supreme Leader Snoke, his vision was spotted from blood loss, his breath haggard. He toppled into a kneel more than stepping into one.

The Supreme Leader circled about him, and Ren waited for punishment, whether it be verbal or physical. He had failed spectacularly, as Hux had kindly reminded him, and he would not get by without some form of reprimand. Yet Ren felt regret for all the wrong reasons.

Finally, after making his judgement, Supreme Leader Snoke snatched the wrist of his right arm. He lifted the offending limb, scrutinizing Ren’s face as he moved it. When Ren made no response that pleased the Supreme Leader, Snoke tore his glove away. Ren watched as Supreme Leader Snoke gripped his pointer finger and snapped it back. It easily broke, and he still felt nothing. Ren stared at the mottled finger, the disconnect he felt from his own limb disturbing.

Nodding, Supreme Leader Snoke took his wrist and gave it a sharp twist, dislocating it with clinical ease. Still, nothing. The Supreme Leader swiftly thrust his knee up to his forearm. Ren watched but could not feel as his radius and ulna split, shredding through layers of skin to show pale, shattered bone. His stomach roiled at the sight, and he let his vision blur until it settled again, blood flowing down his numbed fingers.

Finally, the Supreme Leader inspected his way up the rest of his drooping arm, only stopping once he was at the shoulder, and Ren visibly reacted to the nails digging into his skin.

“Stand, Kylo Ren,” he finally ordered.

Ren’s boot slipped in the slide of his own blood.

“Your arm is no longer usable,” he continued in a calm tone. “Get rid of it.”

Listless, Ren fumbled for his lightsaber. Hux had been thoughtful enough to snatch it from the snow, and now he knew why.

He had lost too much blood.

The Supreme Leader was not going to relent, however, and was generous enough to hold out the unusable arm, but not before he had dislocated his shoulder as well. That, Ren could feel; he bit through his tongue to keep from crying out, swallowing enough blood to feel queasy all over again.

His saber crackled and hissed when Ren ignited it, all too happy to carve its way through its own master. He could not restrain the roar of pain he made at his scorching saber skimming through flesh. It was a messy job. He lacked the control to make a clean slice. It was through sheer, stupid stubbornness that he retained consciousness, and he nearly lost it at the heavy thud of his limb dropping to the ground.

Ren retched as the Supreme Leader returned to his seat, at last satisfied.

“Go,” he dismissed.

Ren made it through the blast doors before blacking out.

 

* * *

 

 

He could not bear to look at his arm, perhaps because it was no longer _his_.

Ren had memories of sitting in his uncle’s lap as a child, just so he could hold his mechanical hand for a closer look. Now he had an entire limb replaced, but he lacked his childish fascination for machinery. Instead, he was left with painful rehabilitation and the soft whirring of his own hardware, which he was convinced had to be imaginary.

He pushed through it, because he had no other option. The sooner he recovered, the sooner he would be able to leave behind the restrictiveness of on-base life.

It was more than that.

He needed to go after the scavenger. The girl. _Rey_.

He could feel her presence in the hot marrow of his bones, though there was a galaxy between them. She was constantly pressing against him in the small, spare spaces of his skull. The vision of her he had seen on Starkiller as he lay prostrate in the snow still stung every time he blinked.

Supreme Leader Snoke wanted her, and he made it abundantly clear. Without proper training, Rey had managed to best the Master of the Knights of Ren--something Ren was reminded of frequently as he made his recovery. She was an asset that the Supreme Leader would not allow to waste away. Ren had an ulterior motive for hunting her, however.

She was in his dreams. With each gasping breath, he could taste her on the back of his throat. His blood was saturated with her, and he could feel her spread with every stuttering burst of his pumping heart valves. She belonged swathed in the silvery, lustrous light of his vision, that he could not deny, but from the moment she stood over him, Ren had known he wanted nothing more than to lie wasted and yielding at her feet.

The Supreme Leader would call this weakness, but Ren could not, not when it was so clearly his rightful place.

It was her destiny, as well as his own.

When he was feeling particularly daring, Ren picked at the edges of her consciousness.

Her ocean was stretching farther than before, its vastness surrounding her mind. Against the current of her thoughts, he would swim. He hoped to get swept with the tide, to reach her island, where she stood in the sand, isolated but safe from him. Which was what she wanted, if nothing else.

Ren could not make sense of his need, his absolute desperation to have her near, but he found himself not caring.

As soon as he was cleared by medical, he rushed off base, leaving behind even his stormtrooper detail and pilots. He was going after her not as a representative and Commander of the First Order, nor even as the master of the Knights of Ren. Selfishly, he wanted her to himself. The damage of greed clawed into the soft center of his guts.

Logically, he had no idea where he was going. Ren had nothing but the memory of her face in the snow, resolved and icy, to guide him. Yet, it did not matter how far apart they were. He could _feel_ her, somehow, an elastic connection between them. If he followed that, she would be at the other end. It was inexplicable, but he knew it to be true.

This knowledge led him to an easily ignored star system, and a planet that was invisible to the First Order, uninhabited as it was by intelligent lifeforms: Ahch-To.

She was tired; he knew it the moment he saw her face. Her training was not going well. It was also clear to him why she had surrounded her mind by the lapping waters of a never ending sea, and it had nothing to do with Ahch-To’s topography. She was protecting herself from him, but she was also protecting herself from a terrifying truth--she did not agree with Luke’s teachings, or perhaps his teachings did not agree with _her_. Regardless, if she remained on her island, if she remained on this planet, she could continue to pretend she was where she needed to be.

They both knew that was not true.

Her hair, loose now, whipped around her face with the ocean breeze, slashing at her cheeks as she scowled.

His chest burned as Ren tried to remember how to speak.

“How did you find me without the map?”

The wind carried his voice when he spoke too softly. “I followed a feeling.”

She scoffed at his answer, not pleased, apparently, with the notion that he was capable of feeling. He could sense her contempt for him, his eyes dropping to her hand where it gripped her lightsaber. Her knuckles were white, bone straining against tanned skin. He felt that fire in his chest scorch through his vulnerable organs, leaving ash in its wake.

“You don’t have feelings,” she said, though he could see on her face, she knew that was a lie.

After all, he had nothing to hide from her. The floodgates were wide open for her to see, quite plainly, that he had too many feelings. His emotions were often times overwhelming and uncontrollable. His own darkness, his own pain and misery hung on her shoulders like a wet cloak; she felt it. It weighed more than it should and clung to her skin.

He stepped closer to her. He knew he had her trapped, and it was a cheap trick on his part. She glanced over the cliff edge he had her pressed against, dewy grass between the little toes of her bare feet. The roar of the tide beating against the island rushed below, and she battled two different fears. The rocks down there, and him.

“What do you want with me?” Rey asked, as if his answer would resolve her inner conflict.

Everything. _Nothing_. Too much, and at the same time, not nearly enough.

Ren did not know what it was he wanted. Just her.

“To show you what you’re capable of,” he murmured, though even that was hardly a real answer.

She tensed at that, her expression stony. She was trying to make sense of him and could not. Anger slithered about her, coiling in preparation to strike.

“I know exactly what I’m capable of,” Rey growled. “I don’t need you to show me anything.”

Her gaze rested on the poorly healed scar bisecting his face. She was not proud of her handiwork, but did not regret the pain she had inflicted either. It was justice, as far as she was concerned. Ren did not fault her for this.

Rey made up her mind. She feared him more than the waves below. Without a moment more to weigh the risks, she dove towards the restless water.

Ren choked on panic. Flashes of endless desert sand flooded his mind, of gutted, durasteel behemoths baking in the sun hot enough to fry flesh, of starvation and a despairing thirst that left the mouth sticking. He felt nothing but a certainty that she would drown. What did a scavenger know of swimming?

He rushed to look over the cliff, not waiting to see her emerge before following her down. The too-salty water made him gag, and his eyes squinted through the unpleasant burn, but she was gone. Not dead, but escaped.

He howled, a wounded beast, and the sound reverberated off the cliff face. He hoped she could hear his anguish.

Ren slammed a fist onto the water’s surface, helplessly punishing what was in closest proximity, however unproductive it was. He took long strokes to shore, his robes bogging him down, and sloshed onto a small spread of coarse sand in time to see a ship taking off.

She was getting away, and it was futile to stop her. Even if he could get to his shuttle in decent time, she would have made the jump to hyperspace long before he had the chance to break atmosphere. His lungs heaved with fire as he panted, dread widening his eyes. She was gone, and he had never gotten the opportunity to explain himself, though he hardly knew what she would want to hear that could soothe her righteous fury.

He recalled her mercy on Starkiller. She had loomed over him in the snow, his life in her hands, and instead of slashing her way through him, Rey had walked away. That had been her opening to kill him, and she had decided against it. Ren told himself that had to mean _something_. She did not want him dead, at least not by her doing.

He willfully chose to be hopeful.

Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.

She had seen into his mind once, had delved her hands into the mud of his thoughts in search of a weakness, had scooped her way through him without remorse or delicacy. Rey knew exactly who he was. He had no doubt of this.

He had no other option; he would simply have to continue his chase.

 

* * *

 

 

Ren was relentless. She could not hide from him, not when they were quite literally linked. Every time she shifted away, it pulled on the twisted wire around his heart, forcing him to follow. It was an agonizing tether that she purposefully tugged on, the wire always squeezing tighter to slice into his meaty core.

Still, he would not rest. Not until he saw her face again. His visions of her were all that he had to sustain himself, while his obsession continued to swallow him whole.

He was confused when all her frantic, yanking movement came to a sudden halt in a too-familiar place. He remembered vibrant, lush green and the heavy scent of loam and rot, as well as the heft of her body falling into his arms. She was on Takodana, and it was as if she was beckoning him towards her. His mouth dried at the implication of her invitation.

Rey might really kill him. Or try to, at least. Either way, he was not entirely sure that he was capable of resisting her.

She sat in the dirt, perched on the same cluster of rocks where they had first met. Her back was straight as a plank, legs crossed, her eyes closed in meditation to create an image of serenity. Ren knew it was an act for his sake; pretend as she might, he affected her.

“Are you ever going to stop?” she asked as he kneeled across from her, removing his helmet with smooth motions.

She was tense. He could see it in the slight ticking of her jaw, and the sharp, jutting lines of her shoulders, the way her eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly with his every, minuscule move. She wasn’t watching him with her eyes, but she might as well have been. Utterly on edge, she was prepared for him to attack, though she should have known he had no intention of striking her.

“No,” he replied honestly.

She huffed a sigh, one wearied by both exhaustion and exasperation.

“I don’t understand you,” she said, eyes open now.

He met her gaze as levelly as he could, though the urge to reach for her simmered under the surface. That was new.

Her hair was longer than it had been when he had last seen her, months ago. It still framed her face, though now the curling ends reached well past her shoulders. Ren wished he was not wearing gloves, so that when he clenched his fists, he could feel the dig of his nails into his palms. He squeezed them anyway, in a poor attempt at restraining himself.

“Don’t you?” he returned, perhaps more harshly than he intended.

His tone did nothing to help his case. Like a feral feline, her hackles rose on instinct.

In her anger, she spat her words at him. “Why would you expect me to understand _you,_ of all people? I don’t want anything to do with you!”

He should not have been so affronted by what she said. Still, he had to physically bite down on the urge to accuse her of being a _liar_.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, her eyebrows knit together.

“I’m not--”

Rey interrupted him, meeting his glare. “I thought I did understand you. When I was in that chair--”

Ren knew what was coming. Taking her from the battlefield to interrogate her had been a mistake, regardless of how gentle he had been with her. Resigning himself, he slumped slightly. Even if his entire life had been changed in that interrogation room, he could still feel her terror, palpable in the air.

“--I saw you. You accused _me_ of being alone, but I saw how lonely you were, and I did understand that. It made sense to me, perhaps more than anything. I thought I could see through your mask and robes, past the creature that you made yourself to be for everyone surrounding you. I was _wrong.”_

Ren could feel his brows pulling together in his own confusion.

“No,” he breathed, “you weren’t wrong.”

She never was.

Rey shook her head, barking a bitter laugh as she turned her face away in an attempt to hide the sudden tears springing from her hazel eyes. He watched them drip from her chin, his lips trembling as he ignored the sudden desire to console her.

“I was wrong,” she repeated with emphasis, subtly wiping her face. “I watched you, Ren, as you killed your own father. You’ve been alone because you’ve chosen that for yourself.”

He inhaled sharply, startled. Finally, she turned back to him with red-rimmed eyes, narrowed in accusation.

“No, Rey--” he started, only for her to cut him off with a snarl.

“You had everything. You had a father that wanted to bring you home, despite everything you’ve done. Your mother still wants you back. Even your uncle can’t find it in him to hate you, and you destroyed his life’s work. You had all this, and yet you pushed it all away. So, no, I _don’t_ understand you, and I don’t want to. I never will.”

Slowly, he breathed out. “I was alone before I ever chose this life for myself. As you said, you’ve seen inside my head. You know--”

Rey stood abruptly. “Are you trying to say I _didn’t_ witness you murder your own father? That I should actually feel pity for you?”

“Rey--”

“Don’t use my name! You only know it because you ripped it from my head.”

Frustrated, he stood as well. She seemed so much smaller once he had, the crown of her head only just reaching his chin. Still, her lower lip jutted out rebelliously, her nose scrunched in her anger.

“You clearly haven’t seen everything, if you think I _chose_ to be lonely. Who do you think pushed me away? _Han Solo_ feared me from the moment he knew I could use the Force--he wanted his son to be a brainless pilot. My mother was too preoccupied with the Senate and her political career to care what happened to me. Skywalker--”

Rey crossed what little distance there was between them to deliver a harsh slap to his cheek. His ears rang as he blinked, momentarily stunned.

“Master Luke took you in and raised you. He offered you knowledge of the Force, and you betrayed him--”

Ren ducked closer to her, gripping her arms roughly when she tried to cower away from him, his forehead nearly touching hers as he seethed.

“Luke Skywalker trained me because he had no choice. I was the problem child, the one in danger of becoming the next Darth Vader. I was a complication amongst his lovely, easily taught students who took to the light side without issue. He didn’t want me there, within range of his other pupils, capable of tarnishing them--”

“Your uncle loves you!” she exclaimed, outraged, still struggling to break free of his hold.

He tightened his grip, scowling as he forced her to meet his gaze. He could smell the faint fragrance of her skin, something rich and earthy mixed with cold sweat, and it made him feel heady. Ren clamped his eyes shut, breathing in her scent with steady gulps.

His control lapsed; their conversation was getting him nowhere. A jumble of memories tumbled from his head, silencing her at last. As much as she pretended to hate him, she was curious by nature. He let her thumb through the archive of his past, every miserable moment of gangly, big-eared Ben available for her greedy hands to grasp.

Once he was satisfied that she had seen enough, he let his hands drop. She staggered back a step, and he snatched her wrist to keep her from falling, only for her to slap his hand away. She landed with a hard thud, her fingers clawing into the dirt.

They stared at each other, neither capable of speaking for a moment.

He had to dodge when she threw a handful of earth at his face.

“Why would you show me that?” she asked, pulling her legs towards herself to bury her face in her knees.

Ren did not have any answer to give her; he did not entirely know.

“Rey--” he tried, and her face tilted up slightly, enough for him to see her eyes.

She was crying.

“I told you that I didn’t want to know,” she fumed, “I didn’t want to understand, you absolute nerf herder.”

She hid her face once more, her shoulders quaking.

Exhausted, he sighed, dropping to a crouch. “I’m sorry.”

She looked up swiftly, gnashing her teeth.

“You’re _sorry?”_

It happened so quickly, he had no chance to balance himself before Rey was barreling through him at high speed. Ren yelped as he toppled over, eyes going wide as she pummeled his chest with her fists. She was too upset for her punches to have weight to them, but he grabbed her hands anyway.

“You’re sorry?” she reiterated with a screech, tearing her hands away.

He grimaced, letting his arms fall.

“I am.”

“Bantha shit!” she hissed back, gripping the front of his robes, yanking him upward with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone. I don’t care how pathetic your childhood was--you’re preaching to the choir.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice quiet.

She shoved him back towards the ground.

“You know nothing.”

She stood then, leaving without another word.

He watched her go, then frowned up at the full, green tree branches overhead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was going to post this last night...but...that didn't happen. Moving on.

Rey did not immediately leave Takodana. He could still sense her presence when he broke free of the trees to return to his shuttle. She was wallowing, regretful of their meeting. More than that, she was _drinking_.

Ren wondered if he would be taking advantage of the situation by joining her. He decided he did not care if he was. It was likely she would be unwilling to speak with him again unless she was less than sober, and he had no desire to spend the next several months chasing her around the galaxy again.

Amongst the pirates, spies, and overall scum that passed for patrons at the cantina in Maz’s rebuilt castle, Rey was easy to spot from the door. She was nursing not a glass, but a bottle of Corellian whiskey, and from what he could tell, it was top shelf. He huffed an exasperated sigh, not having to wonder who would give her the pricy, potent alcohol; he knew the culprit.

Maz silently joined him where he stood in the entrance.

“You should leave her alone, boy,” she said after a moment.

Ren knew she was right, logically. He was the one that led Rey to the use of liquid escape, regardless of who her supplier was. Unpleasant warmth swelled in his chest at the thought of leaving her in that dingy bar, though, her back hunched uncomfortably over the counter, her elbow propped up on the countertop so that the meat of her palm could support her chin while the other hand turned the bottle, swirling caramel fire.

“You should know better than to give her whiskey,” he replied flatly.

He could see Maz shake her head from the corner of his eye.

“You shouldn’t have given me a reason to.”

“If she’s upset, it isn’t just because of me,” he snapped in as hushed a tone as he could manage. “You already know that, I’m sure.”

Irritated, he walked further into the cantina, approaching the bar. He had no desire to continue his conversation with Maz, not when it would undoubtedly end in him physically lashing out at his surroundings. The bar area was saturated with the sweet stench of cigarette smoke and the salty sweat of off-world criminals.

Rey was, at the very least, composed enough to sense his presence as he neared.

“Go away,” she grumbled, still staring at the easy swish of whiskey in its bottle after she set it down, freeing her hand to lazily wave him away.

He took the stool beside her with a single word. “No.”

She did not struggle when he snatched the bottle from her, twisting its top on to set it out of reach. Instead, she shifted around, so her back was to him. He adjusted his posture on the barstool in an attempt to sit more comfortably, but his long legs hindered him from doing so. His knees jutted out at sharp angles, forcing him to turn his body towards her.

“I’m not done talking yet,” he informed her with a quiet tone.

“I think you’ve said enough,” she bit back.

She was trembling, and Ren knew it had nothing to do with the drinking. He swiveled her stool around, forcing her to face him. Her eyes were red, a steady roll of tears trickling over the lovely arches of her cheeks, leaving tracks of moisture on freckled skin. He wrestled with the temptation to rub them away from her face with the broad swipe of his thumb.

“You don’t need to cry for me,” he murmured, hand hesitating, still drawn towards her.

“I’m _not_ crying for you!” she retorted, leaning away from him as if insulted by his very presence.

He strived to not frown, but his mouth was so accustomed to the gesture that the corners quickly dropped. “You’re lying.”

“What do you even know about me, besides what you think you saw in that interrogation room?”

He glanced for a moment at his upturned palm, resting in his lap, covered with black leather. Ren pulled at each finger, before removing the glove altogether, briefly admiring the callouses that he had earned over years of handling a lightsaber. For a moment, he wondered how her hands, deceptively delicate in appearance, would compare to his own after a trying life picking at the remains of a dead empire in an equally lifeless desert.

Finally, he offered his open palm to her. She stared at it, before looking at his face. Her warm, brown eyes could not avoid the prominent scar.

“I’ll show you what I know,” he insisted, when she remained shell-shocked still.

Her lips pursed together, her hand in a fist. Skin contact was not something she sought from anyone, him least of all. He could see her mind churning as she glared at his large, rough palm, curiosity nipping at her.

It was with great reluctance that she unclenched her fist to slide her hand over his own. Rather pleased, he closed his fingers around her smaller ones, his eyes sliding shut as he exhaled. She did not pull away, but he heard her fidgeting on her stool.

Rey allowed him to effortlessly slip into her mind, the mingle of their memories from Starkiller shifting to the last, haunting image that refused to let him see anything but her when he closed his eyes. She could see how she looked in the snow, a majestic chevalier in her own right, draped in glaring moonlight and the white flow of her own garments.

The Rey that sat before him now shuddered a gasp. She ripped her hand from his, holding it to her chest defensively.

“That isn’t me,” she whispered. “That’s not who I am.”

“It’s who you could be,” he breathed, unable to hide his reverence.

Rey cringed away from him, eyes wide with fear. He could not keep his mind from wandering once more to her potential, to his vision of a galaxy under her foot, and he did not keep his thoughts from her.

“Who you _should_ be,” he continued, his tone firm.

“No, never,” she answered. “If that’s the only reason you want to teach me, then give up now. I was right. You don’t know me.”

Rey was both pitying and pitiful. For a moment, she had hoped he had seen through the layers of loneliness to the vulnerability she could not fully rid herself.

“Show me, then, if I’m so wrong,” he growled, snatching her wrist to pull her hand from her chest. “If you’re not the woman who cut me down in the snow--”

Rey careened forward, butting into his forehead, as if it would deposit her memories and thoughts into his head more effectively. He went reeling back with a surprised grunt, eyes wide as more than just images flushed his mind.

The Ouroboros of starvation snarled in his gut, tangling his stomach in desperation for even a morsel; the scorching aridness of his throat that could not be soothed by his strangled swallowing. The sun-soaked durasteel seared his exposed hands and the scrape of rusted parts against his knuckles drew blood as he dug through the entrails of the _Inflictor_. Coarse sand caked his scalp, and each etch he made on that endless wall, he scouring them into his own flesh. He shivered in the chill of a poorly insulated AT-AT at the darkest point of the night, stomach still gnawing.

Heartbreaking hope clawed at his chest, just as hungry as everything else in the desert.

It was different than sifting through her memories, silent observer to her past, safely separated from the physical torment and touch of her experiences.

 _“That_ is Rey,” she sneered, standing to leave, “not some glowing, untouchable goddess. I exist because of what I survived. You have the wrong idea about me.”

His voice rasped, and he reached for her arm, eyes still staring without seeing anything beyond sand dunes and pale sky.

“Don’t go.” He blinked back her life, his sight returning to the moment.

Ren found his feet, regaining his height over her.

“Don’t go,” he repeated, cornering her against the bar counter.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked, eyes glowering as she gazed down at the short inches between them.

His voice was urgent. “I know you can feel it, Rey.”

“What?”

 _“This,”_ he said, slapping his mechanical hand to his chest with a hard thud as he rested the flesh of his left palm just above her heart. It thumped and screamed under his touch, her chest swelling as she inhaled in crisp surprise.

“I can feel it,” he clenched his teeth, “and you can feel it. Don’t pretend you can’t. I can feel you feeling it.”

“This is ridiculous--” she started.

“Rey, _please_. It’s right there, you know you can feel it.”

Even he was a bit startled by how raw and pleading he sounded. Absentmindedly, he stroked her collarbone with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t want to,” she breathed. Her head ducked to hide her face. “I don’t want to be like you.”

“But you are. You already are like me. We’re connected, and you know it.”

Her voice was small.

“I do.”

His shoulders slumped in relief, his fingers trailing along her sternum as he dropped his hand. Ren took a step back, releasing her. She would not be leaving now, not after finally admitting to the truth. They would finally be able to move forward, he was certain. To do otherwise would be backpedaling.

Rey sat back in her stool, eyes avoiding his.

“I don’t want to go to the Dark Side,” she said, a soft-spoken admission.

His answer was equally quiet. “I don’t want you to either.”

He really had no desire to see her swathed in black. The very notion of her walking the dark path he tread was perverse to him, and so he let this idea filter into her thoughts.

She watched him curiously, before giving a sharp nod. “All right.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ren reached Yavin IV several days before Rey managed to. The old Rebel base located there was long abandoned, and too well known to be made a Resistance base--the First Order would quickly become aware if their forces moved there. It was too obvious a hiding place, but for two people? Yavin IV was conspicuous enough for them to meet.

She landed in an older model X-Wing, one she had likely put into working order herself, and the ship looked at home in the hanger. Rey emerged in an orange flight suit, and when she approached, a too-familiar R2 unit trailed behind her with trilling beeps.

He grimaced at the astromech, whose response was to give a shrill, droid scream. If he could understand binary more proficiently, Ren was sure it would translate as an expletive.

“How long do you have?” he asked, unfolding his arms when she stepped nearer, dropping them to his sides.

She lifted her helmet from her head, shaking out her hair.

“Few days, this time.”

Ren did not let it show how much it pleased him, that she was already planning to train with him more than once. It was a hard-won victory.

“Then let’s get going. Change out of the suit; it’ll only wear you down, where we’re headed.”

She was not shy, striping her flight suit right in the hangar, stepping from the protective, sheer material. Rey was fully dressed beneath the suit, but he turned away as she straightened her vest and pulled back her hair. He thought of the line of her neck, curving back as she did her hair in simple knots meant to keep stray strands from her face.

She cleared her throat when he remained with his face turned away.

“Are we going, or not?”

He frowned at the back of her head when she turned to take the lead--despite not knowing where they were headed.

Ren had already explored the base and its surrounding woodland, and he had discovered a decent spot to meditate, as well as spar. Ren overtook her to lead the way, and they fell into an easy pace, walking off base and through thick greenery, up the woodsy hills.

The air was humid, and though the surface temperature of Yavin IV was not known for high heat, it was as if they were trudging through a heavy, warm soup. Though she kept close, he could hear the raggedness of Rey’s breathing as she struggled to keep up with his gait and find her way through thickets and brush.

They stopped on a clear hilltop, and Rey was huffing softly by the time they reached it, weighed down by the hot moisture in the air, so different than the heat of Jakku. She slumped onto the grass, arms stretched wide. Ren rolled his eyes, yanking his thick robes from his damp skin, until he stood in only a light, sleeveless undershirt and trousers held up by braces. Rolling his shoulders, he loosened his muscles and eased himself to the ground.

“Sit up,” he nudged at her foot with the toe of his boot. “We start with meditation.”

Rey rolled to a sitting position with a wordless, complaining groan.

“How is that any different than my other training--”

Her mouth clamped shut once her gaze landed on him. Unable to speak, she stared at him with wide-eyed panic.

“What?” he snapped, bewildered by her fixed stare.

She stuttered, looking surprisingly pale. “Your arm.”

 _Oh_.

He glanced at where his flesh ended and the mechanical limb started, hand coming up to gently slide his fingers along the edge of his prosthetic. Months had passed since he lost it, and Ren had begun to accustom himself to his arm’s absence. He no longer thought too much of the quiet workings of his replacement limb, though the stump of what remained beneath his new arm often ghosted with a pain seemingly disconnected from the rest of his body.

He had not anticipated how negatively Rey would react to seeing it was gone, knowing she had been the one to take it from him.

“I did that,” she breathed, “didn’t I? I did this to you.”

She crawled closer, though her face appeared drawn and nauseated.

He started, “Rey--”

“I took your _arm_ from you. Why don’t you hate me?”

“I could never hate _you,”_ Ren murmured.

He was not entirely sure if it was this knowledge or the tone he used that stunned her into silence. Still, she inched towards him, inquisitive as she reached to voluntarily touch him.

Ren held still as her thumb stroked along the angry red of his scar, over the curve of his jaw and down his neck to curl across his shoulder, disappearing under durasteel. Her fingers spanned the dips and bulges of mechanical musculature, her thumb digging into the divot of where his inner elbow should have been, curling under the lip of metal covering meant to protect the inner machinery.

It had been built as a perfect replication of his original arm, convincing enough so that it was impossible to notice while he remained fully clothed. It had never occurred to Ren that Rey did not know the damage she had dealt, or that he should need to show her his arm. He had, against better judgement, simply assumed she _knew,_ though his own reasoning as to why failed him.

Finally, she turned his forearm, so that his palm faced upwards. Her fingers grazed over the hand, where most of the sensors were focused.

“You _should_ hate me,” she whispered, sitting back onto her calves. “I don’t even understand...you still had an arm when we separated.”

He shrugged, offering a lopsided smile, a weak attempt at comforting her. He did not like the thought her stewing in guilt over his arm.

“The nerve damage was untreatable,” he said crisply.

He felt as if he was lying. Ren might have been able to heal the injury, had Supreme Leader Snoke allowed him to. Instead, he had been punished.

“I had no choice but to remove it.”

“You...had no choice but to remove it,” she repeated, her voice faint.

Ren shifted uncomfortably, eager to return to the matter at hand.

“Rey, I don’t really see how this matters. We have limited time, so I suggest we get started, so I can get a good idea on what Skywalker has already taught you. We’re wasting time--”

Rey would have none of that. Scowling, she gripped his chin to turn his face towards her, and he was taken by surprise when she quickly rummaged into his mind, slithering around his useless thoughts and memories to pry at what she wanted to know, and what he absolutely did not wish her to see. Still, she forced her way through, clawing him open as if his head was a shellfish, hard and protected but easily cracked apart. This was more effortless for her now that she could focus fully.

He gasped as he freed himself, tearing his face away from the grip she had on his chin, his mind reeling.

For a full second, he was once more in the dank darkness of Supreme Leader Snoke’s private chambers, standing before his master as blood wept from his side, his arm dangling uselessly. He relived the flash of unbearable heat as he lopped his own limb off, the gruesome slip of his boots in a slick, warm puddle, the thud of his flesh as it hit the polished floor, the lightheadedness.

Ren intended to yell at her, for her apparent lack of respect for privacy, but when his eyes uncrossed and he managed to focus them on her again, her pallor was grim, her face too ashen for a desert dweller. The memory of the aftermath of their battle had horrified her, truly.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he managed to scold.

Rey was still peering at his arm. She did not conceal her disgust.

“Why would you follow a master like that?”

He straightened his back, feeling defensive. “The Supreme Leader is wise--”

“He’s cruel,” she interrupted. “He’s manipulating you, and what’s worse, you already know it. And yet, you still follow him.”

Ren knew she was right. He was aware that he was being used, but that did little to change his situation. Even now, his actions could be seen as treachery. The Supreme Leader would not take this training as a light sin, not when Ren had explicit orders to bring Rey to him. Supreme Leader Snoke wanted the girl that had bested the Master of the Knights of Ren, and the reason both evaded and frightened him.

Ren could never allow her to fall into his clutches. He knew this betrayal would not go without punishment.

“He wants to hurt me, doesn’t he?” Rey finally said, sensing his dangerous thoughts. “When you bring me before him.”

“That isn’t ever going to happen,” he swore. “I won’t ever let him near you.”

She had more questions in that moment than he was willing to answer. Rey seemed to know that his answers would not satisfy her though, and so she crossed her legs at last, eyeing him carefully as he sighed.

“Meditation, then?” she mumbled.

“Yes,” he replied, “show me what you’ve already learned.”

As it turned out, that was not much. His uncle’s curriculum had deteriorated further than Ren assumed in the years since his desertion, and it infuriated him. For months, Rey had wasted away in pure meditation, while all her promise lay in wait. He could see so easily how talented she was, and yet, Luke Skywalker had taught her nothing, too afraid to take on another apprentice.

His uncle had squandered her time on Ahch-To.

Ren realized that she needed much more than lessons on glorified stone-throwing, which she thankfully knew with more than just proficiency. Rey really had been wasted on Skywalker. Despite her early life of isolation on Jakku, and the brief time she had spent being told how to sit by his uncle, the rate of her progress was humbling. In another life, he might have envied her for how quickly she grasped concepts, her hands fiercely curious and hungry, constantly grabbing for more.

She had no fear of an uncharted future of variables, and in that way, she was completely unsuited to be a Jedi. She had a desire to see her skills build, to watch herself grow after so many years of sitting in sandy ground, unable to sprout. Granted, she hesitated in the face of his darkness, skirting around the pitch of his heart when he let her see too much, or when she delved too deep into his muck.

Ren had yet to determine why he let her do it, because she was by no means subtle--whether it be the sweet naivety she so easily emanated, or the fact that he was incapable of denying her whatever her heart desired, not when she had been denied for so long. So, she learned to take what she wanted, and Ren gave her everything. He would pull his beating heart from his rib cage for her, if she so wished, and _that_ was a terrifying notion.

By the end of their first training session, Ren had her lifting the X-Wing with as much ease as plucking flowers from the ground. He let her preen with pride. She deserved it. After meeting on Yavin IV again, this time for an entire week, Ren was able to direct her and converse with her without Rey cringing away or floundering. He was unsure which victory he valued more.

He did not leave the Rebel base when she was gone, though Ren knew this was not the wisest course of action. Supreme Leader Snoke was growing weary of his absence, and was becoming increasingly aware of how Ren felt for his student. Perhaps it was juvenile, but he intended to push this issue aside until he felt better prepared to deal with it.

The longer he spent around Rey, the more he _knew,_ even in the hot plasma of his blood, he could not let the Supreme Leader anywhere near her. Not when he so clearly intended to take her from Ren, and that would be a blow from which he could not recover.

He gravitated towards her, always, even from great distances he could feel the pull. If she was anything but indifferent to this phenomenon, she certainly did not let it show. It was difficult to pick up any of her emotions when he was so overrun by his own, the attraction he felt for her like a coal glowing his his chest. She had to know the fire was cooking him from the inside, but she gave no hint, left no hope that she held anything for him but distant impartiality.

So, Ren watched her grow. When she left Yavin IV to return to her duties, he waited, pining for the new image burning the black of his closed eyes. With the grace and poise of an Empress, he saw her lounging in thin, flowing muslin, surrounded by cushions and greenery and handmaidens, her hair a long, waving curtain that brushed her thighs as she sat. Ren was her faithful dog, ready to protect her or kill for her. Even in this vision of her, he panted after her like an untrained mutt.

“I’m having a hard time hating you,” she told him once, after long hours of hands-on training, as they were supposed to be meditating.

He, admittedly, spoke without too much thought, whatever filter he usually had worn away by exhaustion. Their drills were becoming more extensive and in depth as she gained better understanding of the various lightsaber forms. His shoulders were cramping, and his mood was less than spectacular.

“Sorry, Sunshine, I’ll remember to make it easier for you in the future.”

He paused at the sound of his own voice, and the faint rustling of her clothing as she squirmed.

Rey cleared her throat, and he grimaced at her uncertainty. _“Sunshine?”_

His immediate instinct was to apologize. “Sorry, I--”

A small hand slapped over his mouth, and his eyes jolted to hers, suddenly too close for comfort.

“You think I’m like sunshine?”

Her gaze was full of wonder, and he looked back at her, mortified. _This_ had always been coming, and he knew that. Ren had always hoped she would give him the opportunity to at least explain himself, however moot his explanations were. Rey had spent too much time lumbering through his head, climbing the rung ladders of his thoughts. She had to have known.

Gently, he tugged at her wrist to free his lips, but even when he opened his mouth, Ren could not work his voice, and whatever clever response he might have flung was lost. With a dumb expression, he ducked his head forward once, the only affirmative he could get out, his eyes everywhere but on her.

She barked a short, wet laugh, and something in him crumbled at the sad peal.

“I think more than that,” he said, swallowing.

He could sense rather than see the heat that smothered her cheeks, and quite suddenly he was assaulted by thoughts of how the warm curve of her breasts would feel against his chest, her little, strong hands tangled in his hair as her breath puffed against his throat. The craving rolled through him just long enough for him to feel disgusted with himself.

She sniffed. “I know.”

He held still, knowing she had more.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that about me,” she continued in a whisper.

Ren hesitated. While he had anticipated her rebuking him, he felt little relief at her lack of anger; it was more jarring perhaps than any outburst of sporadic yells. He shuddered a sigh, then spoke because it was the truth.

“They should.”

For just a moment, her face lit up, and he would have killed to see the expression last. Through every uneven beat of blazing self-hatred, he yearned to please her, no matter the cost there was to himself. He wondered if he would drop himself into the throbbing, fiery core of a star just because it might make her smile.

Finally, she pleaded, “Don’t do that.”

He coiled away from her, wounded but unsurprised.

“No,” she grumbled, hand curving around the edge of his jaw as she turned his face towards her by force. “That’s not what I meant.”

She was close enough that Ren could smell the salt of her skin, the familiar earthiness that was her, and while his insides churned, he salivated. A sudden spike of fear punctured his lungs; she would run as far away as possible if he acted on this attraction that gripped him.

She rose to her knees, nervous as she exhaled, her forehead leaning against his, the hand that was not on his face, stroking the rough edges of his scar, slowly smoothing over the ridges of his flesh arm. He breathed through his nose slowly, trying not to smell her as he inhaled, afraid of what it would do to him, if he was taken by her scent.

“I was trying to tell you that I don’t hate you,” she murmured. “I meant that you shouldn’t either.”

His head spun. How could she not see how unworthy he was to even be near her? He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing she was not on the other side of his eyelids, forever tormenting him.

“I don’t hate you,” he answered, despising how hopeful his tone was, “I...opposite of hate you.”

Her voice was a watery smile. “I know.”

Her small, upturned nose grazed his cheek as her mouth found his. Her cherub’s lips slotted so easily into his fuller ones, still curling towards her cheeks as she smiled helplessly into the kiss. Chaste and abbreviated as it was, she pressed a second and third kiss to the give of his lips, before quietly speaking to his skin.

“I want you to kiss me back, Ren.”

He breathed in sharply, and the sound was a roar in his ears. His arms, hanging uselessly at his sides, shot around her to pull her in, and if he had ever been capable of thinking about anything but her, he no longer could. His first returning kiss was gentle and short, but the second was deep and thoughtful, her lips parting with a gasp for him as a palm skated the divot of her spine.

She tasted of sunlit heat and sifting sands, and he gulped her in, until air drew short and it was physically impossible for him to get any closer. Her chest rumbled with breathy laughs. He hummed as she withdrew slightly, mouth chasing, his eyes glazed over, but she was beaming at him, her teeth perfect rows of ivory.

Rey fell against him, still snickering through her teeth as their mouths met again, less like a kiss and more like a clash of their faces. She was so supple in his arms he was afraid she might break, even with the well earned knowledge that she was made of sterner stuff than even he was.

“Rey,” he murmured her name, just because he could. It was a prayer that clung the back of his throat and huffed in his ear.

The suck of her lips made his stomach turn pleasantly. He hoped she never stopped.

She was still giggling, and finally, he had to ask, “What?”

She gave a shrug. “We’re kissing. We’ve literally tried to kill each other, and now we’re kissing. I’ve never even kissed someone before.”

He kissed her again, with the sort of sweeping motions that sent shivers through her limbs and yanked gasps from her chest and had her clutching his shoulders and gripping his hair. Ren refused to break away until he was certain all urges to laugh were free from her belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for the comments last chapter! :) Feedback is always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End

Rey had been absent for a full six weeks, and though he knew the consequences of searching for her would be grievous, the longer she was away, the shorter his patience became. He hated that she left at all, but knew better than to try to keep her there.

Finally, he heard the approach of an X-Wing fighter, but he realized it was not her. While he sensed her presence, it was still at a distance. He hid in the shadows of the hangar walls, watching as a newer model than what Rey piloted made its landing, frowning as he recognized the Resistance fighter.

Poe Dameron. His mother’s best pilot.

He forgot his anxiety for a moment, anger replacing it.

“Hello?” Dameron called out, clearly uncertain. Ren had no intention of returning the greeting.

“I know Rey has to be meeting _someone_ here,” he continued, turning about in place, his BB unit trilling at his calves, “I’ve seen her travel logs. No one comes here unless they have to, it’s been abandoned for years!”

Ren observed him with cold fury as he started to move about the hangar.

“Listen,” Dameron tried, “I don’t know who would hide out here, and I don’t want to make threats, but I _will_ find you. You might as well come out now.”

Ren scoffed--the pilot clearly had no idea how over his head he was. Still, the man was no threat to _him,_ and so he watched Dameron flounder in confusion and frustration.

“Rey’s been hurt, all right? I figured whoever’s here--”

Suddenly, it did not matter who was there, or who knew that it Ren she was meeting. If she was hurt, nothing was more important to him than her safety.

“What happened?” he seethed, emerging from the shadows and approaching the stunned pilot with confident, dangerous strides. “Why is she hurt?”

Dameron cursed under his breath, drawing his blaster without a second thought, and Ren sneered at the man, ripping the weapon from his hand and tossing it out of reach with the Force. Dameron did not show any fear, and Ren was almost impressed by his muster, if he had not been distracted by his concern for Rey.

“What the hell is Rey doing with _you?”_

Ren did not bother to explain himself; it was hardly the business of a mere pilot. He clawed his fingers into Dameron’s flight suit, lifting the shorter man to eye level.

“What happened to Rey?” he asked through grit teeth, his eyes burning fiercely into Dameron’s.

The pilot barked a humorless laugh.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? After all, it was the First Order that sent bounty hunters after her to begin with.”

His breath shuddered as he blew out, his eyes refusing to blink as they stared wide into nothing, the pilot all but forgotten. Ren let Dameron drop, and he stumbled back a step, trying to remember what breathing felt like. He saw spots, his mind silently whirring.

The First Order was sending bounty hunters after Rey. Supreme Leader Snoke was trying to kill her or take her, and either option was horrifying. He should have never let her leave his side; he had known the Supreme Leader’s intentions were dubious, especially since he had not checked into any base in months. He had not anticipated such a forward attack.

As panic spread through his limbs and choked his throat, he fell to his backside, arms propping him up from behind, tarmac biting into the flesh of his left palm. He tried to focus on the sensation of pain, but it was no help.

“No,” he mumbled. “No, this can’t be true.”

Surely, the Supreme Leader had to know what this would do to him. A terrible truth rose to his throat like bile--Supreme Leader Snoke knew exactly what this would do to him, and that was precisely why he had done it.

Dameron stared at him in disbelief, but Ren could not find to will to lift his gaze away from his own boots. His legs were tar, unable to move from the ground.

“How badly is she hurt?”

Perhaps Dameron pitied him, because he replied without perceivable hesitation.

“It was a blaster shot to the chest; she ran into a whole clan of hunters on Coruscant. It was a miracle she made it out alive. And not even a whole standard day after getting out of the bacta tank, she tried to run off,” he added with a grumble, “to you, I guess.”

Ren was silent.

“Look,” Dameron sighed, crouching down, “it seems like you had nothing to do with this--”

Instantly, Ren glowered. “Of course not.”

“--in fact, we haven’t gotten any reports about you in almost a year, so I’m not entirely sure what the deal is, but you clearly don’t want Rey to be hurt.”

He had no words, gnashing his teeth instead.

“Maybe you should do something about the First Order, because they don’t exactly have your best interests in mind.”

Ren’s automatic reaction was to growl. “What, and join your pathetic band of Resistance fighters? I don’t think you realize to whom you’re talking.”

Yet, he knew Poe Dameron was right. Rey was in greater danger than he had supposed, and the only way to guarantee her safety was to eliminate those who threatened her--namely, the First Order and its Supreme Leader. This knowledge slipped to his gut like a rock, and the jagged edges sliced at his insides as it rolled about, refusing to settle.

Huffing, Dameron stood straight, grumbling, “Damn, she’s gotten into a real mess with you, you’ve got it bad,” under his breath.

“I’m not going to report your location to General Organa,” he declared with an unwavering tone, “but in return, just consider your options, for Rey’s sake.”

Ren met his gaze in a steeled hush. The pilot did not know that he had no options, just the one. And all he ever did was for Rey’s sake.

 

* * *

 

She lay on her side in grass, her back fitting into the open niche of his bare chest, his mechanical arm under the pliant bow of her waist, his cold palm and each of his digits open for her to inspect. His other arm looped over her hip so that his hand rested on her breast, fingers covering the twist of burnt skin where she had been shot. In the afternoon sun, her tanned skin glowed warm. He was utterly immersed in that earthy, mild scent of hers, with little intention of moving in the foreseeable future.

“I know you haven’t been leaving, so you haven’t had it looked at in a long time,” she said, when he did not speak, “but I could tighten it up, if you want.”

He made a curt sound in the back of his throat. Even using his voice took too much effort.

Rey dropped his hand, fingers threading through blades of grass that stuck to the steaminess of naked skin, ripping at green with fascination. He whined as she swiveled about in his arms, turning towards him with a syrupy grin. She slipped her arm out of his hold to sprinkle grass over his hair and cheekbones, and he pulled a disapproving face with half-lidded eyes as she settled into him again, satisfied.

Or so he thought.

“I also know you’ve been upset since that incident on Coruscant.”

He shut his eyes once more, brows drawn together.

“Please, Rey.”

“Please, _nothing,”_ she retorted, though by her tone, she was amused. “You should know by now that it’s impossible to hide anything from me.”

He hummed, allowing his expression to relax. “Yes, well, that’s only because you’re nosy.”

She blew a raspberry to his throat. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

He tilted away from her, shifting to his back, and she stretched, joints popping as she sat. His scars stretched across his torso, the older ones silvery lines of spider web while the bowcaster wound and the slash across his face were still mottled pink. She scraped a nail down the plains of his abdomen, watching as the soft spot of skin below his belly button quivered at her touch. When she reached the sparse track of dark hairs, her palm pressed flat to run back to his chest.

“You’re planning to do something,” she accused softly, adding after a tense moment, “without me.”

He let out a long breath of air.

“I don’t want to put you into danger.”

She curled into his side, her cheek pressed to the durasteel of his arm. Her lips buried into the seem of skin and metal, before she sank into the grass, body fully unwound once more.

“You don’t trust your own ability as a teacher?”

Ren turned his face towards her. “You know that isn’t it.”

Her eyelashes, auburn in the sun, brushed against the freckles on her cheeks as she offered the smallest smile.

“Will you at least tell me what you plan on doing?”

He leaned to sweep her mouth with a kiss, and she welcomed it. Ren had no desire to discuss the issue of Supreme Leader Snoke and the First Order, though there was no avoiding it. It had only taken seeing Rey after her skirmish with the bounty hunters for him to decide neither could be left unchecked. She had become so central to his existence that old loyalties lost their prevalence, and he haplessly gravitated to her light.

Though it was a childish aspiration, Ren wished they could just run. If she was unsafe in the turbulence of a galactic war, then they should both disappear. There were places still untouched by conflict, too far from the central systems to be squabbled over for resources or military support.

Rey would never allow this, though. She cared for so many more people beyond him. She had such a capacity that he hardly knew how she functioned. The mere act of loving her was all-consuming and had utter possession of him.

At last, he confessed.

“I’m going to kill Snoke.”

A giddy noise erupted from her lips, and she rolled, legs crowding his stomach as she straddled him.

“I’m going with you.”

He gripped her thighs, his eyes drifting along each incline and slant of her lithe figure.

She sensed his hesitation, and continued with an urgent tone. “Kylo, he’s supposed to be stronger than either of us--you’ve said so yourself. How are you expecting to defeat him alone?”

“With the element of surprise,” he replied flatly.

“Think about what this could mean for the galaxy! If you’re willing to fight Snoke, it could end this war.”

He stiffened, brows furrowing. “I don’t care about any of that. He’s threatening you, and that’s all that matters to me. I can’t let you anywhere near him, even if it would mean an easier victory.”

Rey frowned, and his chest tightened, because he could no longer cope with how beautiful she was, even while disappointed.

“I don’t matter more than an entire galaxy-- _trillions of lives_ \--Kylo.”

She did matter more, he thought dangerously. He would let it all burn, if it meant Rey was alive.

“You do to me,” he answered.

She was unhappy with this response, but he had to be honest with her. As her expression fell, she angled herself forward, her hands gathering strands of grass from his hair, where she had originally scattered them.

“Then you should know I can’t let you go alone, either,” she murmured, combing his loose curls with slender fingers.

He should put his foot down, leave as she slept to do the deed himself, return before she has the chance to chase him to Supreme Leader Snoke. If he had been in her position, though, he would never let her go face doom on her own.

 

* * *

 

 

It was with incredible simplicity that Rey slid into the pilot’s seat of his shuttle, leaving him with no choice but to take the co-pilot’s. She was, of course, the better pilot between them, but it was strange to see her hands dart over the controls, navigating the buttons and knobs with the same ease of breathing. There was no denying her mastery over all forms of machinery.

Ren was not confident in their plan, though she was pleased with how easily they managed to land on the second Starkiller, still under construction. The Supreme Leader was personally overseeing the project, evidence enough that he had lost confidence in General Hux to manage it on his own.

When they were hailed, Ren gave his old codes, knowing well they would have changed several times over in the time since he had started his mad hunt for Rey. When they were given clearance to land without any argument or throwing around of names, dread sizzled in his ribcage. They were expected. Supreme Leader Snoke _knew,_ and still they were immediately invited to his chambers. He was not threatened by their presence.

Rey walked with her head high, seemingly unaffected by their stormtrooper escort. As they crept closer, the apprehension that throttled him only worsened. The blast doors loomed, and the moment Ren saw them, he could feel his old master on the other side of them.

His survival instinct cried out at the sight of those black doors. He instantly reached for Rey, his large hand easily curling around her upper arm and pulling her to a skidding stop.

“We have to leave,” he hissed. “Now. Before we enter that room.”

They were not going to get away alive. This fact surged through his veins, as much a part of him as his own blood.

There was a click of the safety being released on several blasters all at once. He turned his head to look down a barrel of a blaster and into the blank face of the commanding trooper, his squad all in a similar stance.

“The Supreme Leader has ordered that Lord Ren and his apprentice be brought to these chambers upon landing, whatever the cost.”

Still, Rey was unafraid. She covered the ridges of his knuckles with a warm palm and offered a reassuring grin.

She regarded the stormtrooper with a hard expression. “Those aren’t necessary. We’re going now.”

The room was spacious and dark, and not solely because of the slate walls that soared upward to a vaulted ceiling. The lights themselves were dimmed, so that any person entering would have no choice but to squint as their vision adjusted.

Upon their entrance, Supreme Leader Snoke stood, black robes spilling from the throne that dominated the entire room to flow around a lean, imposing figure.

“Kylo Ren,” the Supreme Leader greeted, “I see you’ve finally managed to bring me your--what, scavenger girl? Apprentice? _Whore?_ \--I am not entirely sure which fits best.”

He foamed at the mouth at the blasé tone, but when he wanted to speak, to lash out at the accusations, Ren realized he was being restrained. Beyond minimal movement of his eyes, he was frozen in place. He gagged on a sickening mixture of hysteria and his stomach’s contents.

Rey snarled for him, _“I_ am the woman who’s come to kill you.”

Supreme Leader Snoke’s responding laughter had a gravelly facet that made his nerves flare in alarm.

Brave, beautiful Rey stood strong. She was a plaything, and she did not yet know it, and this amused the slinking creature that circled them in increasingly smaller orbits to no end.

Every inch of muscle that he was afforded fought to regain control, even if it was just so he could yell a single word of warning- _-go!_

His mind battered against the invisible dome in which Supreme Leader Snoke had him trapped, but it was like throwing pebbles against a durasteel wall. He could only look at her from the corner of his eye, not even able to turn his head towards her. It was more horrendous than any torture he might have endured in his training, and while he struggled, she reached for the Skywalker saber.

Ren knew she would never have the chance to ignite it.

Only a beat had passed, and Supreme Leader Snoke was addressing him once more.  
“I am beginning to wonder if you were ever truly worthy of your title, Master of the Knights of Ren. Your apprentice is not so strong as you presumed, and your infatuation has blinded you to it; you should have never dared bring her before me like this. I slipped through her defenses much too easily.”

Rey whirled to look back at him, and then Ren understood why she had been given a few seconds more to be allowed movement. When their gazes met, her limbs stilled, clearly against her will.

The Supreme Leader had wanted them to be looking at each other, a twisted kindness.

The next second, her face contorted in torment. When her lips parted, it was only to release the sounds of her own suffering, and all he could do was watch, mind screaming. What he felt through the sturdy flex of their connection was pale compared to what she endured; he was allowed only just enough pain for him to comprehend what was being done to her.

Supreme Leader Snoke was using the Force to cleanly destroy her from the inside. He clawed at her stomach, shredding it open to spill acid that scalded the surrounding, vulnerable organs, then jerked her intestines into impossible, square knots. Dagger claws probed into her lungs as unseen fists clenched around them, her breath stuttering from her chest.

Blood spewed from her wide, screeching mouth. Ren would plead the Supreme Leader give him equal treatment, if only so he could no longer feel the rough scrape of her screams echoing in his mind. The endless howl of his own voice to _stop, stop, stop_ never passed his lips.

At the end of her screaming came an even more terrifying silence, and it was then that she was permitted to collapse.

He dropped hard enough to feel pain in his knees.

“Rey?” he croaked.

He could not feel her anymore. She was _gone_.

Ren hyperventilated, hands trembling as he reached for her prone form, his eyes impossibly wide.

“Please, Rey,” he pleaded.

Gently, he turned her over, his eyes confirming what he had already known. Her own eyes were half-open, fixed only on the empty space between them. Crimson still trickled from the swell of her lower lip, slick against her chin.

No. No, no, no, _no_ \--

He was reminded of that horrible lightness he had felt after carving away his own arm. Once more, his body was incomplete, his head gutted of her presence, and he was left with an agonizing ache that could not be touched, let alone soothed. With slow movements, he pulled her towards him, her head cradled in his palm, her soft, brown hair spilling down in free waves.

Ren could hear a voice fluctuating wildly through a series of broken sobs; belatedly, he realized it was his own. He ducked his head as his vision burned and blurred, his entire face contorting in agony when he pressed his forehead to hers. He could not feel the familiar warmth of her breath on his cheeks. Tears dribbled from the end of his nose to smatter her freckled face.

He could not allow this. He would rather die than let the galaxy and its endless, meaningless wars keep spinning on without her. Ren would give his life for her.

He kissed her, the smear of her blood bitter on his lips. He tried to center his energy on her, tried to transfer the painful life thudding in him to her, but it refused to settle in her chest. Whatever efforts he made only flowed away from her limp form, utterly unreceptive to his offerings of life. She would not be stirred, not from this eternal state of slumber.

His voice boomed against the vaulted ceilings of Supreme Leader Snoke’s gloomy chambers as he vocalized his unfocused rage in a roar. The tips of his fingers crushed into her arm hard enough to stain her skin with ugly, purple and scarlet blooms when he held her closer.

The Supreme Leader had observed him in silence, but now he chose to speak.

“Stand, Kylo Ren. Cease your pitiful blithering.”

Ren’s head whipped towards the sneer. The furious flames of a supernova surged through him, fire hissing through his bared teeth.

_“You.”_

Enflamed with anger, he released Rey to stand at full height, flames in his bones and a blind, white heat that boiled the resin of his head, until it burst through the small passageways of his veins, painting his insides with hot, thick tar. He opened his hand, and the hilt of his lightsaber was instantly in his palm.

“If you had never existed, she’d be alive right now.”

The red blade of his saber crackled and spit, and he ignored the sting of his own weapon.

“You would have never _met_ her. She would be starving on Jakku, while you would be wandering the galaxy with your useless father as Ben Solo. I made you who you are, Kylo Ren. Do you truly intend to bite the hand that feeds?”

Wearied, Ren looked to where she lay on the cold floor, ice seeping into her flesh. The gurgling pitch of his hatred finally coated around his heart, consuming the last of his humanity. Even if he had never met her, the universe would have been better for her living in it.

“I don’t care,” he fumed. “She would still be alive.”

He stalked towards Supreme Leader Snoke with lumbering steps, the only sound in the room the grit of his boots on smooth stone and his heaving breath, and though Supreme Leader Snoke never moved, never so much as twitched an eye, Ren could sense his mild concern when his steps did not falter.

The Supreme Leader attempted to regain a hold on him with the Force, but it oozed off him, not able to detain him now that he lacked a heart to influence. His emptiness, the black, simmering sludge of his blood vessels, repelled outside influence, and it was a final gift of which he would take advantage. If Rey was gone, the monster that had taken her would be too.

The ground beneath his feet rumbled with a thunder he had not caused, and he wondered if Rey had tipped off the Resistance, or if General Organa was relying on her uncanny instincts. Either way, it did not matter to him. He stopped with only enough space between them to swing his saber, and finally, Ren saw a look on the Supreme Leader’s grey face beside the usual disdain. For a moment, there was real, genuine foreboding.

Ren considered himself kind, because that tormenting fear lasted just the moment. Without the Force to help him, the Supreme Leader was as easy to carve through as a mindless, grazing beast. He roared as he hacked away, ignoring the acrid stench of burning flesh and unsettling thuds of flesh meeting ground.

Even as he stood over what could hardly be considered a body, smoking with hellfire, his voice continued to bellow without words.

He returned to Rey, and his voice could only produce sobs, the kind that made his head throb.

Alone. He was so alone.

His entire life, he had never been so alone. There had always been the foreign presence of someone else, chafing in the small space at the back of his skull, but even that was gone. It was where Snoke had tormented him, and where Rey should have made herself at home.

Ren did not know how he was to function in the unnatural silence that now settled.

He slumped down, curling his left arm over Rey’s abdomen with care as he rested on his side. Cold seeped into him wherever the floor came into contact with his body, despite his robes, but he could do no more than peer at the blur of her profile. Under drying blood, her lips were blooming blue.

It was too much. He shut his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

It could have been hours, but it was very likely minutes before the blaster fire reached his ears. He refused to budge.

The doors opened. Ren did not move. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep, and never wake again.

There were voices, and though they were familiar, he could not place them, nor did he particularly care to. One of them was wailing Rey’s name. They had no right to grieve her, not like he did.

Then she was shifting out from under his arm, and he could not allow that. His eyes shot towards the intruder as he rose to crouch over her, his arms caging her body in. Ren bared his teeth to growl.

_“Don’t touch her.”_

It was the traitor, FN-2187. His thoughts were scathing as he took in the stormtrooper’s teary eyes.

“Let Rey go!” he barked back, aiming a blaster at his forehead.

If it had been anyone else, Ren would not have resisted. The painless death and the following, endless drift would have been welcomed. But he knew that the moment his body dropped, FN-2187 would be wrenching hers away. He would be left in Snoke’s chambers, alone.

“I won’t let you take her from me,” Ren snarled, seizing the blaster before it could be shot and tossing it out of reach.

The traitor took in his face, saw the blood that smeared his lips, saw the same blood that stained the blue bows of her mouth, and stumbled back in revulsion.

“What the hell did you _do_ to her?” he whispered. “Drink her blood?”

More footsteps approached. He no longer had time to waste on an ignorant, traitorous stormtrooper. He reached his hand out and gave a hard shove, enough to send FN-2187 sliding on the polished floor.

Before he could recover, Ren gathered Rey in his arms, tucking her slender, motionless limbs into his chest, new tears stinging the corners of his eyes. She seemed so small, held against him, and his pain renewed as he straightened to his feet. The tar that had boiled through him was cooling now, congealing in his veins and on his soft insides, slowing him down. He felt heavy, even after a single step.

They were joined by another convoy of Resistance fighters, General Organa amongst them. Though she had aged, Ren recognized her immediately.

“Ben,” she called, with a tone of surprise, so unlike the dread he had heard in his father’s voice, the last time that name had been used.

He met her eyes, and old aches flared, memories of crying for his mother shuddering through him with an overwhelming vengeance.

She looked at his face, and then at Rey, and all she could say was, “Oh, _Ben,”_ in that same way she had years back, when he used to sneak into her bedroom after a nightmare.

Only, he could not wake from this one.

So he wept, alone, the woman he loved lost in his arms.

He did not notice her approach him until she was speaking again, close enough to whisper.

“Come home, sweetheart. Let Rey be properly put to rest.”

When she placed a hand on his shoulder, he jerked away from her touch, shaking his head.

“No,” he croaked. “I’m taking her.”

Ren gave her a final look before storming away. They both knew they would never see each other again.

 

* * *

 

 

He lay atop freshly turned earth, dirt slowly swallowing his weight as he stared unseeing at the blue atmosphere of a nameless moon. Though he could not feel her presence, mere feet below him, he knew she was there, still the vision of graceful, burning power he had first seen in the snow. In the distance, he could hear an ocean, lapping at a sandy shoreline.

Ren closed his eyes to wait for sleep to take him.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll see you all again tonight, probably at around 8-8.30 mountain time. :) Comments, as always, are appreciated.


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